Monday, January 23rd, 2012
Somewhere in the wooded foothills of the Appalacians, United States
Journal
How do I know days have passed? I don't. I just guessed based on this idiotic routine Stan's making me endure. I endure in silence unless I'm supposed to be singing or speaking to him. He doesn't seem to mind. Yet.
I know this is definitely an oddity, but I've started wearing the locket Reid gave me. He was smart to engrave it in Latin and had written his message on the back of his photo in Latin. I love Latin, so of course I can speak, read, and write it. "To the little genius," the engraving said. "May this keep the thought of us here in Quantico doing whatever we can to help you in any way possible always present in your mind. ~S. Reid" said the writing on his photo. He sure can write in small print. It's a good thing I have good vision with these glasses. Speaking of which, where are they? Nevermind. I found them. It's a miracle I noticed they weren't on, let alone have found them.
Ugh. My headache's back. And I have music next. Yippee. Wonder what instrument he'll have me play today?
Amy
Amy closed her journal and slipped it into its place between the mattress and boxspring, placing her pen on her nightstand. The monitor on the computer blinked green and red at her. If it were a living creature, Amy would have thought it wanted to be played with or given a walk. Instead Amy pulled her knees up to her chest on her bed and rocked herself back and forth, humming an old lullaby she knew some mothers sang to their children to make them fall asleep. She stroked her orange tabby cat, Philip, as she hummed, then pulled him closer and laid next to him, letting his purring calm her nerves and relax her mind.
Eventually the familiar footsteps and whistle came closer, and Amy sat up, petting Philip still, knowing Stan was reluctant to have him in the house. There was an oddly cheery knock on the door, then it opened. Stan took two steps inside, then said cheerfully, "Ready for music?"
Amy looked at Philip, whose head had rested on her leg. "Not really. I don't want to disturb him."
"Want me to?" Stan asked.
Amy's eyes widened with anger. "No."
Stan smiled. "Didn't think so. Come on."
Amy sighed and carefully lifted Philip's head off her leg and slipped her pillow under his head instead. He woke only slightly to meow at Stan and Amy, then rested his head on the pillow and fell back asleep.
Stan watched the entire thing. Once Amy had walked over to him, he kissed the top of her head and said, "That cat of yours is close to human. It's creepy."
"It's reassuring," Amy said, then allowed Stan to wrap his arm around her shoulders and walked on to the music room, as she knew it (if there were proper furniture it would probably be a living room).
Monday, January 23rd, 2012 8:39 AM
BAU Headquarters, Quantico Virginia
Reid followed Garcia into her office with coffee in his hands for the two of them. She switched on the light and proceeded to turn on her computers and her other technology.
"Make yourself comfortable. Knowing you, this will take a while," Garcia said, hanging her coat on her door. Reid did the same, then placed her coffee in front of her. He sat in a chair next to hers as she signed in. "I'm going to have to change my passwords now since you're in here today."
Reid smiled. "No need. I don't need to use your computers for anything. Nor do I really want to, with all that they're hooked up to in the same room."
Garcia laughed slightly. "Smart boy, but I'm still changing my password once you leave."
Once everything had loaded, she searched for Stan Fields in all possible databases. Nine entries greeted her. She pulled up the first one she saw.
"Got them," she said.
Reid practically shot over to her. "What do you have?"
Garcia read from the screen, and Reid's eyes followed where she was going. "Okay. Stanley Fields was born in Surrey, England, on October 26th, 1960. Moved to Augusta, Maine with his family in 1964. Recieved public education as a child, but was accepted to Harvard, Yale, and Julliard. Stan ended up in Julliard, then went on to ABA, which for him soon changed to ABC, and that's just how easy it was for him. After ten years, he left the company and went to Harvard for...well, he never selected a major, and ended up switching to Yale two years in. Same deal with Yale, except he never switched colleges, he just dropped out and moved to Fairfield, Connecticut.
"Stan ended up opening a private dance studio and had been running that until, well, he burned it down. Then that's it for this one." She minimized the window and opened one of the other entries. "Okay, this is...a form for adoption...wait, he adopted Amy? Who let that happen?"
"Hotch," Morgan said, startling the two of them. "Thought I might poke in here and see if I can help." He held a cup of coffee in his hand. "I see you two beat me to the coffee."
"Well, we're going to need it eventually," Reid said, but added. "Grab a seat."
Garcia stared furiously at the screen. "Then there's a newspaper article about his musical genius and amazing dancing feet." Garcia started laughing. "Wow, they called him 'a modern Fred Astaire!' Wonder why he threw all that away just for a kid? Oh, wait, it says he gave away opportunities for fame because he liked being able to teach others his extreme passion and sole love. Rubbish. All he wanted was to see little girls in tights, I betchya."
"Moving on?" Reid asked, his head ready to go between his knees.
Garcia took the hint. "Okay, so there's all the information on his credit card...he's made quite a few recent purchases, except they're all sent to different locations. I highly doubt he's moving Amy all over the place."
"Purchases? What kind?" Morgan asked.
"Oh, a grand piano, a really pretty accoustic guitar, a ballet bar, a viola, clothes, room decorations and furniture, art supplies, notebooks, sketchbooks, writing utensils, and a green velvet-covered journal with silver and gold detailing on the cover. I must say it's actually rather pretty. Then there's quite a few purchases of cat food, cat litter, and cat litterbox liners, then cat climby things that actually look really cool, cat toys, catnip, cat treats, and a cat bed. Did Amy have a cat or something?" Garcia said.
Reid nodded. "Yeah, a male orange tabby she named Philip." He looked at Morgan and Garcia, who stared at him with an intensity that should have worried most people. "Stan's trying to make her comfortable and happy. The decorations, art and writing supplies, the instruments, the cat stuff, it's all for her. The clothes can go either way. The only things I don't see listed is food."
Morgan nodded. "Maybe he's paying cash for that."
"Meaning the store must be local," Reid said.
"And he doesn't want us to find out where he is," Morgan said.
Reid nodded. "Meaning he is the killer, and he knows we know."
Garcia shivered. "That just gives me the creeps."